


Taking Matters Into Your Own Hands

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-03
Updated: 2006-06-03
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8078830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: Trip forgets to lock the door. (05/30/2006)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Beta: Thank you to GroovyGoddess for her comments and editing expertise.  
  
Written on the fly for the Merry Masturbation Month of May (Thanks GroovyGoddess for reminding me!). This is sort of a prequel to my story "Popping the Question."  


* * *

I'm restless. My shift ended over an hour ago and I should just kick back and relax, but I have the strange feeling that I should be...doing something. I just don't know what. It's frustrating. I'm not used to feeling at loose ends.

I wander back down to Engineering, thinking that maybe I've forgotten to do something important there, but the engine is purring like a kitten and my office desk is devoid of anything more pressing than next month's duty roster.

I stroll over to the mess hall and snag a glass of cold milk and a piece of pecan pie. After only a few bites I realize that I'm not really hungry. I finish the pie anyway because it would be a crying shame to just throw it away. Besides, Chef gets kind of temperamental when people waste non-resequenced food.

I go back to my quarters still feeling jittery and unsatisfied. I look around the cluttered room with a sigh. The laundry pile that used to be confined to the corner has encroached into the middle of the room; and the dirty dishes and disorganized stacks of padds have completely taken over my desk. Even I have to admit that the mess is starting to get out of hand.

I make a half-hearted attempt to corral the laundry, but tidying up was never one of my favorite things to do. I decide that leaving all the junk where it is for one more day won't hurt anything.

I carefully reach between two wobbly datapadd towers and check my computer for messages. Nothing. I scowl at the screen in frustration.

"Now what?" I say aloud to the messy room. My gaze falls on the novel that Jon gave me last week. I pick it up and turn it over in my hands. I don't think I really feel like reading, but I suppose I could give it a try.

I settle down on the unmade bunk and open the book.

I give up after I find myself reading the opening paragraph for the fifth time. Sighing in annoyance, I toss the novel onto the nightstand. This is ridiculous.

I stand and exit my quarters. I have no clear destination in mind, but my feet carry me down the corridors to the officers' lounge. It's empty. I'm not sure if I'm relieved or disappointed. The idea of some company has a certain degree of appeal, but the one person I'd like to see the most isn't available.

Suddenly, it hits me. Malcolm. I miss Malcolm. This is the first time we've been apart since we started sleeping together nearly a month ago. I've gotten used to spending my off duty time with him. Without him, I'm at a loss.

I gaze out the portal at the golden desert planet we're currently orbiting. Malcolm's down there right now, providing security for Jon and T'Pol. They aren't due back until sometime tomorrow.

I wonder if Malcolm misses me as much as I miss him? Is he lonely and restless without me? I doubt it. He's probably too busy dealing with the security arrangements.

I sigh and sit down on the couch. Our couch. The couch where Malcolm and I made love for the first time. My cock immediately hardens at the memory of that night. Great. Now I not only miss Malcolm, but I miss having sex with Malcolm too.

It's kind of funny how fast my body has adjusted to a new routine. I was getting by just fine on anonymous shore leave flings and random lucky encounters with willing alien women. But since Malcolm and I got together, my body has gotten used to a higher level of sexual activity. A much higher level. Suddenly a night without sex seems like an unacceptable hardship. And speaking of hard... I glance down at the conspicuous bulge in my uniform.

"Malcolm's not here." I tell my over-eager penis. It merely bounces happily at the mention of Malcolm's name.

"Oh, for cryin' out loud." I mutter. I should have known that it wouldn't give up that easily--my greedy body wants what it's come to expect. Oh, well. Since Malcolm isn't here, I guess I'll just have to deal with it myself.

My cock twitches in anticipation as I lie back on the couch and unzip my uniform. I reach down under the elastic of my underwear to take my erection into my hand, but the uniform zipper tab digs painfully into my knuckles. I try to reposition my hand, but it's no use. Stupid uniforms. They don't make it very easy to get at the goods. Bad design if you ask me.

I sit up and push the damn thing off of my shoulders and then, with a little bucking and twisting, manage to work it and my underwear down around my knees. There. That's better. I lean back against the arm of the couch and take myself in hand.

I close my eyes and imagine Malcolm kneeling between my legs, his eyes intense, his mouth just inches above my cock, his breath hot against my skin. Oh yeah. I shiver a little as I stroke my hand over my shaft. I think about the warm wetness of Malcolm's clever tongue as I circle my thumb over the head of my cock. It slides easily over the sensitive skin, helped along by the slippery ooze of pre-come.

My pleasure slowly builds as I think about Malcolm touching me, claiming me with his mouth and hands. He always knows exactly how to touch me. I concentrate on the sensations my hand is creating as I paint a mental picture of Malcolm sucking and licking his way up and down my hard dick.

"Fuck yeah." I say breathlessly. I stroke a little faster, a little harder.

I imagine him deep throating me, taking me all the way in. It's not a skill I've been able to master, but Malcolm always makes it look so easy. I think of his lips sliding along my penis from tip to base and back again. An involuntary groan escapes from my throat.

I pump my fist hard and fast over my throbbing cock, driving myself over the edge with reckless abandon. My hips thrust up and I cry out as my orgasm roars through my body. Hot come spills over my hand and pools on my belly.

Panting and trembling with the force of my release, I relax back into the soft cushions. I imagine Malcolm cuddling up against my side and saying...

"You forgot to lock the door."

My eyes fly open. Malcolm is standing at the foot of the couch, a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Shit!" Startled by his sudden appearance, I try to leap to my feet, but my clothes are still tangled around my legs and I overbalance. My head grazes against the edge of the coffee table as I fall. Pain flashes behind my eyes and I reflexively clap my hand over my forehead.

"Ow!" I say from my undignified sprawl on the deck. "Malcolm! What the...? I thought you were down on the planet! How long have you been there?"

"Long enough." He says. The glint of amusement in his eyes is rapidly giving way to concern. "Are you all right?"

"No!" I snap. "I'm not all right!"

"Here. Let me see." He drops down in front of me and gently tugs my hand away from my head. I'm very aware of the fact that my penis is still hanging out in the breeze. Goddamn stupid uniforms... Embarrassment burns across my face as Malcolm gently explores the sore spot on my forehead with his fingers.

"I'm sorry." He says softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"You could've said somethin', you know, instead of just standin' there watchin' like some kind of pervert." I fumble at my clothing, trying to pull everything back into place, heedless of the slick slimy mess on my belly.

"Actually, no. I don't think I could've." Malcolm says with a faint smile. He stands and then reaches a hand down to help me up.

"Oh, and why is that?" I ask sarcastically. "Did the cat have your tongue?"

"No. As far as I know there aren't any cats on board. But the view was so bloody hot that it took my breath away." The teasing comment only increases my embarrassment.

"Well you still should have said somethin'!" I snarl as I zip up my uniform. Malcolm's smile falters and his eyes cloud over with apprehension.

"I-I'm sorry, Trip. I wasn't... I didn't mean to step over any lines." He turns and heads for the door. I suddenly feel like a complete bastard for stomping on his playful mood.

"Malcolm, wait. Don't go. You just...kinda caught me off guard." He stops and turns around slowly, but he doesn't look at me.

"I really am sorry, Trip." He says. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I honestly didn't think you'd mind." I sigh and run my hands over my face.

Before we got together, I used to think that Malcolm would be shy in bed. He's not. In fact, he's as bold as brass when it comes to the physical side of our relationship. He's an adventurous and imaginative lover and he shares his body with me without reservation. It's only when it comes to the emotional side of things that he becomes hesitant and unsure. He doesn't trust his heart, or mine for that matter. Not yet anyway.

"I'm not mad at you, Darlin'." I explain as calmly as I can. "Not really. It was just kind of embarrassing, gettin' caught jerking off like that."

He looks up sharply, clearly surprised by my admission.

"Why? There's nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hands every now and then."

"Well, no, but I'm not exactly used to havin' an audience."

"We've been sleeping together for nearly a month. It's not like I haven't seen you naked before." Malcolm reminds me. I smile sheepishly.

"I know, but that's different. For one, we're usually both naked. And for another, it's a little more, uh...reciprocal, if you get my drift."

"Ah. I see." He says. The bright glint is back in his eyes and it makes me a little nervous. He bends down to untie his boots, turning slightly to give me a nice view of his firm ass. He toes off his boots and nudges them aside with his foot. Then he unzips his uniform and quickly shrugs out of it, letting it fall unceremoniously to the deck.

"Um...Malcolm, what are you doing?" I ask.

"Reciprocating." He says with a sly grin. A few seconds later, he's got his shirt and socks off as well. The blue undershirt is next, followed by his underwear. They look impossibly bright against the dark gray carpet of the lounge, but the contrast doesn't really register all that well in my brain because Malcolm is standing before me completely naked.

I'm always a little surprised by how much our multi-layered Starfleet uniforms hide. In uniform, Malcolm looks...well, kind of scrawny. But without it, he's anything but scrawny. He's fucking gorgeous.

Malcolm might be on the short side of tall, but he's incredibly fit. He's all bone and muscle and smooth pale skin; there's not an ounce of fat on him.

The dim light plays across the planes of his body as he advances on me. His muscles are hard and well defined, but they lack the showy over-development favored by a lot of guys who work security. He balances his strength with flexibility and it shows in the way he moves. It sounds kind of stupid and cliche, but he reminds me of a big cat--powerful, graceful, and unpredictable.

He takes my hand, leads me over to the nearby chair, and pushes me down into it. I reach out to pull him into my lap, but he quickly steps out of reach.

"Stay there." He says with a hint of command in his voice. I whine in wordless frustration, but obey as he returns to the couch.

He reclines on it almost lazily, throwing one leg up over the back of it, leaving himself completely exposed to my gaze. He looks so incredibly beautiful that it takes every scrap of my willpower to stay where I am.

He gives me a quick smile before turning his attention to his own body. He runs his hands idly over his chest. His dexterous fingers tweak his nipples and I watch in avid fascination as his aroused cock jumps in response. One of his hands continues to toy with his nipples as the other slides slowly southward. It glides over his hard flat belly, across his hipbone and down his muscular thigh. It detours inward at his knee and then slides up his inner thigh, fingers stroking and caressing.

Mesmerized by the sight, I lean forward in my chair. I want him. I want to touch him, taste him, possess him; make him mine.

His fingers brush through the soft dark curls of his pubic hair, stroke gently over his erection and then drift downward again to fondle his balls.

I'm already hard as a rock again, but Malcolm doesn't notice. He's so lost in the pleasure of his own body that he's not even looking at me. He just continues to tease himself along as if he's got all the time in the world.

A low moan escapes from Malcolm's slightly parted lips. The sound sends a bolt of pure heat down my spine. My cock surges at the sight of his strong elegant hand sliding up and down his hard penis.

I'm really beginning to understand why Malcolm didn't speak up earlier. Watching him touch himself like this is incredibly erotic. If I looked even half as hot as he does... Hell, I'm not sure I could say anything right now, even if I wanted to.

Malcolm looks at me, his gray eyes full of pleasure and warm affection.

"I missed you." He says. "You have no idea how much I missed you. I love you. I couldn't wait to get back."

This time my heart leaps in concert with my cock. I can count the number of times Malcolm has told me that he loves me on one hand. It's not something that comes easily to him. But when he says it he really means it.

"Malcolm..." His name is the only thing I can manage, but it doesn't matter because he knows what I'm trying to tell him. He smiles at me.

I can tell he's getting close. His eyes are growing hazy and his chest is heaving. Before long, he abandons his slow leisurely caresses for harder more purposeful strokes.

"Malcolm..." I say his name again.

He gives a low gasp and his body shudders violently as he comes. For a time he just lies there trying to catch his breath, a faint contented smile on his face. Eventually, he sighs and lets his leg slide off the back of the couch. He reaches down, picks his undershirt up off the floor, and uses it to clean off his stomach.

My head is spinning with desire. Just as soon as I can coordinate my overloaded brain with my horny body I'm gonna go over there and kiss him silly.

"So," He asks with a slow sensuous smile, "did yo-..." He breaks off suddenly as the door slides open with a 'whoosh'. I freeze in my chair. Oh fuck. We forgot to lock the door. Jon smiles at me as he peers into the room. "Hey Trip." He says nonchalantly as if he hasn't just caught me watching my naked lover jerk off.

Jon leans against the doorjamb and looks at me expectantly. Damn him. He's going to toy with me like a cat with a wounded mouse. I'm never going to live this down. I just know it. I'm so embarrassed I'm surprised that my cheeks don't just burst into flames.

Malcolm has gone absolutely still, his eyes wide with horror. I'm amazed that he's just lying there, making no attempts to cover himself up or stutter out some kind of apology for our unprofessional behavior. Then it dawns on me that he's hidden from Jon's view by the couch back. The situation suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Jon hasn't clued in to what's going on yet, but it won't take much for that to change. My first instinct is to jump out of my chair to prevent him from coming any farther into the room, but if I stand up he's going to notice my more-than-obvious hard-on. That might lead to raised eyebrows and awkward questions, so I decide to stay put as long as Jon looks like he's going to do the same.

I try to suppress my panic. If I can keep my cool, Malcolm and I might just get out of this with our dignity intact. Sort of. All I have to do is act normal. And hope that Jon doesn't notice Malcolm's clothes on the floor; or that the room smells like sex; or that I'm sitting in a chair looking at a supposedly empty couch when I could be looking at the pretty planet below instead.

Luckily the lights are dim, and Jon seems kind of distracted.

"Trip?" He says, his brow furrowing in confusion. I realize that I haven't yet responded to his greeting. I give myself a mental shake and try to pull myself together.

"Um...hi." It takes a moment but I finally manage to squeeze a coherent word from my throat. Jon frowns at me and pushes himself away from the doorframe.

"Are you okay? You sound a little off. You're not coming down with a cold or something, are you?"

"No. No." I hurry to reassure him. "I'm feelin' just fine. Uh...so...anything I can help you with?"

Malcolm shoots me a glare from the couch and mouths 'get rid of him'. Or at least I think that's what he's trying to say. I don't dare look at him too closely for fear that Jon will want to know what I'm so interested in.

"I was looking for Malcolm." Jon says. "Have you seen him? I tried calling him over the comm, but he didn't answer."

"Malcolm?" I swear my voice just jumped two octaves. Surely Jon must realize that something is up? "He just came..." Oops. That is _not_ what I meant to say. "I mean he just left! You just missed him!" Oh, God. I resist the desire to bury my face in my hands. Please, please, please let Jon leave before I say or do something _completely_ stupid and incriminating.

"Any idea where he went?"

"Um...ah..." My mind scrambles for an answer.

Malcolm rolls his eyes at me in frustration, and then holds his index finger and thumb out at a ninety-degree angle to one another. I stare at him dumbly. It's only when he jerks his hand up sharply and mouths 'bang' like a child playing cops and robbers that I finally figure out what he's trying to tell me. I never was very good at charades.

"Um, the armory?" I suggest weakly, making it sound more like a question than an answer. Jon shakes his head.

"That's the first place I checked. He wasn't there."

"I bet you just missed each other." I say. I'm proud of that little embellishment. I sounded almost natural that time. Jon sighs in irritation.

"Well, I guess I'll go back down there and see if I can track him down."

"Sounds like a plan." I say.

"If you see him, let him know that I'm looking for him."

"Sure thing." I try to keep the relief out of my voice.

"Enjoy your evening, Trip."

"I will." Jon starts to leave, but then suddenly turns around again. Panic lances through my chest and I jump a little, but Malcolm doesn't move a muscle.

"Oh, by the way, are we still on for tomorrow?" Jon asks. My poor brain is so saturated with adrenaline that it takes me a second to realize that he's talking about watching the water polo semi-finals.

"Absolutely." I say with a smile that I hope doesn't look as fake as it feels. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Great. See you tomorrow." Jon finally leaves. As soon as the door slides shut, I bolt over to it and lock it. I lean heavily against the cool metal, my knees weak with relief.

"Oh, man, that was just a little too close for comfort." I say.

Malcolm peeks warily over the back of the couch as if he doesn't quite believe that Jon is gone.

"I can't believe I forgot to lock the sodding door." He says with a groan of embarrassment. "Did you hear the comm?" I shake my head.

"Darlin', I was so busy watchin' you that I wouldn't have noticed a hoard of drunken Klingons run through the room." Malcolm smiles.

"At least luck was on our side for once. I know the Captain has liberal policies on fraternization, but I wouldn't care to have him find out about our relationship in such a graphic manner. That would have been awkward to say the least."

"Yeah." I say without thinking. "But I wouldn't worry too much about Jon findin' out about us. He already knows."

"He does?" Malcolm asks in shock. "And just how did that happen?"

Uh oh. I should've just kept my big mouth shut.

"Well?" Malcolm demands. I guess it's time to 'fess up.

"Um...remember the first time we made love?" I say.

"I'm assuming that's a rhetorical question." Malcolm crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a hard, narrow-eyed look. The effect is pretty intimidating even though he's still buck-naked. I shuffle my feet nervously.

"And, uh, remember how happy I was afterward?" I ask.

"Trip," Malcolm says sternly, "what did you do?"

"Well, I was just bustin' at the seams with joy, 'cause you loved me and I loved you and the next morning at breakfast Jon asked me why I was grinnin' like a lunatic an' I...uh...kinda told him"

"You told him we'd slept together?" Malcolm sounds completely scandalized.

"Yeah. Kind of." I use 'kind of' to mean 'in excruciating, way-too-much-information detail', but I'm not about to tell Malcolm that. Not yet anyway. I think I'll just wait until we're old and gray and he's in a really forgiving mood. After all, I like my internal organs right where they are.

"Oh, I don't believe this." Malcolm mutters. "You told the Captain..."

"He's not just the Captain, Malcolm," I say before he can get himself too worked up, "he's also my best friend. Don't forget that. Gettin' together with you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Can you blame me for wanting to tell my closest friend about it?"

A quick succession of emotions passes over Malcolm's face as he wrestles with the concept. I mentally cross my fingers and hope that he understands; that he won't see it as a betrayal of his trust.

"Who else knows?" He asks sharply.

"No one. I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Jon earlier. I should have." Malcolm looks down at his hands and fidgets a little.

"I...it's all right." He looks up with a weak smile. I know he's not entirely comfortable with it but he's making an effort for my sake. I let myself relax.

"I won't tell anyone else if you don't want me to."

"I'd prefer that we keep things quiet for now." He says. "This is still all so new. I'd like to keep it to ourselves for a bit. Perhaps later, once I've gotten used to the idea of telling people..." His voice trails off.

"Later then." I say easily. I know now isn't the time to push, but I still can't help but give him a tiny teasing nudge. "You're gonna be a hard secret for me to keep, Darlin'. Sometimes I feel like climbin' up on top of the warp engine and telling the whole ship how I feel about you."

"You wouldn't!" He says, clearly appalled by the very idea. I laugh and hurry to reassure him.

"No. I wouldn't. Not unless I knew you'd be okay with it."

"Well, I'm not. I'm not sure I'll ever be."

"I dunno. You might surprise yourself someday." I think maybe he will. I don't think he realizes just how much he's changed in the past four years. He just shrugs a little, and then shifts the subject away from himself.

"So...what did the Captain say when you told him about us?"

"That he was happy for us. That he thinks we're good for each other." He also said that he really didn't want or need to hear any more details, but again I keep that part to myself.

Malcolm laughs.

"I wonder if he'd still feel the same way if he'd actually caught us behaving like a pair of horny teenagers in a public area?"

"He'd probably just tell us to lock the door next time."

"Well, I really doubt we'll be forgetting about locks anytime soon." Malcolm says wryly. He sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "I suppose I'd best go track down our esteemed captain and see what he wants before he uses the internal sensors to find me."

"Probably a good idea." I say. Malcolm looks at the sticky come-stained undershirt in his hand as if he's not quite sure what to do with it.

"Ah...I don't think I should put this back on." He says. I laugh and reach out to take the wad of blue fabric.

"I'll take care of it for you."

"Thank you."

"Do you want to come by my place when you're done talkin' to Jon? We can pick up where we left off--behind closed and locked doors, of course."

"I'd like that, Trip." Malcolm says softly. He caresses his hand gently over my cheek before giving me a sweet, lingering kiss. "I'd like that a lot."

He pulls away from me reluctantly, and then climbs off the couch and quickly puts on his clothes and boots. It's actually kind of disappointing to watch him cover his body back up. Stupid uniforms. But then again, I'll be able to peel it off of him later. I brighten at the thought.

Malcolm straightens his collar and runs his hands through his hair to smooth it back into place.

"There. How do I look?" He holds his arms out from his body, displaying himself for inspection.

"Like a proper Starfleet officer." I reply. "Minus one regulation undershirt." I hold his blue undershirt up and give it a little shake for emphasis. Malcolm rolls his eyes and smiles at me.

"I doubt the Captain will notice." He says. "I'll see you later, then?"

"You bet."

Without warning, he pushes me against the bulkhead and gives me a searing kiss.

"I love you Charles Tucker the Third." He says fiercely. He turns and leaves before I can recover from my shock. A stupid dazed grin spreads across my face.

Malcolm missed me. He loves me. He even said it. Out loud. Twice. And the night is far from over.

I barely have the presence of mind to make sure that nothing is out of place in the lounge before I head for my quarters. I can't help but whistle a happy little tune as I stride down the corridor with Malcolm's blue undershirt dangling out of my pocket. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe...until I remember the fact that my quarters still look like a disaster area. I stop whistling and break into a quick jog. If I hurry, I might have enough time to cram everything into the closet before Malcolm arrives...


End file.
